Gone, My Sherlock
by charl88
Summary: John looks at how he reacted to Sherlock dying at the end of series 2 and his reaction to when he came back in series 3. Just a cute one shot about these two.


He was gone. That was something I had accepted a long time ago. Two years ago he left me. Two years since he had taken his own life. Two years since I lost my best friend. I would never forgive him. He was selfish, why else would he leave me behind? After everything we had been through he took a quick way out. I will never forget that day. I still see him jumping off the building in my sleep. The way his body dropped as he so casually walked off the end. Did he not think about me when he did that? Did he not realise just how much I would be affected by his actions?

It haunted me, everywhere I looked I could see him. I had to move out of Baker Street because I couldn't bear to be where he had been. To sit in the places he had sat. To touch what he touched. His smell still lingered in the air although I was the only one who could sense it.

The first night alone in the house was terrifying. I couldn't sleep and kept pacing around, telling myself that he was out late and that he would soon be back. I wouldn't accept the truth. I couldn't. The truth would be the end of me. I eventually gave up and stood by his door. I knocked although I knew I wouldn't get a reply. I pushed open the door and was hit by the sense of him. His entire room screamed at me. It was as if it knew its owner had gone. Knew that it wouldn't be touched again by those genius hands.

I didn't enter the room. I just stood there, searching. waiting. It was there that Mrs Hudson found me the following morning. Sat outside his room, my head meant against the door waiting for its occupier to come home.

She told me to go downstairs and have some tea but I refused. I couldn't leave until Sherlock came home. I remember she patted my shoulder and told me she missed him too. I didn't understand what she meant. How could she miss him when he would soon be home. She left me alone and I slowly ventured downstairs after a few hours when my stomach began to protest.

It took a few days for it to sink in that he wasn't coming back. It hit me one morning when I woke up and I became paralysed in bed. Unable to move. He was gone. Forever. He had left me. For a second I hated him. Hated that he could leave me, but I realised that he was at peace now. That whatever was troubling him was over. It didn't get easier after that but it became manageable. I moved out soon after, unable to stay in the place where I could still sense his presence. I didn't pack his belongings, I left that to his parents and Mrs Hudson. The only thing I took was the scarf. I needed something of his to keep with me. To remind me of him, to keep him with me.

In time I met Mary. She was understanding and comforting and accepted my faults. She loved me and I grew to love her. She didn't judge me when I talked as if Sherlock was still around, didn't laugh when I tried to learn the violin because I wanted tobe like him. She even came to his grave with me, I visited it weekly.

I had just adjusted to life without him. Then he showed up. I had taken Mary out to our favourite restaurant, where I had taken her for our first date, and was planning to propose when he showed up. Dressed ridiculously as a French waiter, an accent to boot.

It was as if the hatred came flooding back. I punched him. Numerous times. I hated him. Screamed at him how he could do that to me. How he could leave me think that he had died. He didn't think it was a big deal. Of course he wouldn't. He didn't have emotions. Didn't feel and understand things the way normal humans did. He thought it was a good surprise. He never understands to this day why I am still angry at him. He told me it was to protect me, that he didn't want my life being risked. But I would have gladly given my life to know that he was alive.

I still resent him even now for that but the love I have overcomes the anger. He's back. My Sherlock is back. I am finally at peace.


End file.
